Bloody Sunflowers
by PricelessFaces
Summary: America had always been eager to help his allies. He was the hero, after all. However, when the whole world launches into another war his home starts to slip from beneath him. He had no choice but to sign the treaty.


Bloody Sunflowers

Summary: America had always been eager to help his allies. He _was_ the hero, after all and wouldn't back down from a challenge. However, when the whole world launches into another war, his home begins to crumble beneath him and he's forced to make an alliance that will test everything.

Chapter One:

He shoved his shoulder against the door, feeling tremors rock him to the bone outside of the Canadian's mansion. Groping around until his hands gripped the brass knob and twisted every which way, he cursed when the door didn't move. Taking a few steps back he put serious consideration into just breaking it down. He settled for searching for the key instead.

He checked under the maple leaf welcome mat, searched through the bare frostbitten bushes, hurdled rocks out of the way, but with the same outcome each time. As a last resort he reached up and searched the frame of the door. He was rewarded with a small silver key. He reminded himself later to make a copy of it later.

It was cold, too cold for his taste. He was uncomfortable in the cold. Alfred's fingers were stiff, tinted a light sickly blue, and shook whenever a cold wind whipped through the woods that surrounded Canada's home, which was fairly often during the midst of December. He couldn't feel his toes anymore even while they were in furlined (expensive) sheepskin. He sniffed his red nose and flared his nostrils a few times, each breath louder and more forced than the next.

Without any hesitation he stuck the key inside the lock and twisted a few times, the wind did the rest of the work. He breathed a cloud of mist as the door ricocheted off of the wall, leaving a fist sized crater in its wake. Normally he would've proclaimed his presence with a "That's so cool!" or "It's official, I'm awesome." but right now, his only focus was on warmth and finding his awful friend that left him to freeze outside by locking the door.

"Matt, you home?" Alfred stomped his feet on the floor to shake to snow off of him. "Hellooooooo?" Without taking his shoes off he trotted down the hallway and back, hoping to wake the Canadian. After a few rounds of storming around the hallway he listened for the sounds of stirring, shuffling, snoring, or any sign that someone was awake. Nothing.

Alfred found the kitchen and walked in it automatically. Down the hall and to the left, he would have to remember that. The sheer size of his house surprised him, but how Matt could afford it confused him. Along with other things, but that was beside the point.

Opening a wooden cupboard decorated with a girly flowery pattern he scanned the shelves for anything good to munch on while he waited for his friend to wake up and for his fingers to unfreeze. Powdered milk, powdered milk, powdered milk and "Oh come _on_," low-fat glutton free rice crisps. Oh well. Matt wouldn't miss these. He might as well just take the whole bag to save Matthew from dying of lack of taste.

"America?"

What Canada didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Maybe his budget, but it wasn't like he was Switzerland or anything. Matt wouldn't care if he took one bag of chips, now would he? _Nah, he's cooler than that._ He ripped open the bag and pulled out a flakey rice…thing with expert experience. Ransacking other people's food was one thing he was good at, after all. Surprisingly enough, the "low-fat glutton free rice crisps" tasted halfway decent. If he closed his eyes and thought about burgers they sort of tasted like them, only not as good.

"Um, America?"

Kind of like…eating a Rice Crispy or something, only not in covenant little squares. Or rectangles, or whatever shape they came in. Some shape…he'd ask Japan about it later. Then he'd rub England's face in it and say he knew all along. Ah, he could just see it play out in front of him:

"_HAH! I know what shape this is! It's a rectangle and it has four sides! Ahahahaha!" He would say, and promptly stuff the delicious treat in his mouth._

_Then England would look ashamed and get tears to his eyes out of revelation and honor. "Wow America, you're totally smart and super cool just like I thought but now I have proof. I'm sorry for making fun of you behind your back all these years and calling you fat even though you have the physic of a god. Since you're obviously out of my league and would never be my friend again I'll let you have the Queens crown. Also, because you're freaking awesome, you can run my country and ban my food from the earth."_

"_Ahahahahaha! EXACTLY!" He'd take the crown eagerly and laugh even louder._

"_Any genius could see he obviously wants to rule my country,"_

"_I think we all know which country America wants control over and it obviously-"_

"_Mother Russia."_

"_I've got an idea! I'll rule all of you guys!" He would say and hand everyone a mini American flag._

"_YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" They'd wave it eagerly and chant his name. Then he'd been the supreme ruler of all the countries and-_

"America!" His head snapped up at his name. Why it wasn't followed by "my hero" he had no idea. He fixed his glasses and gave the kitchen a once-over, not a brother to be found.

"Canada! I found you!" He lied and compulsively his hand dove into the bag of snacks, grabbing a fistful and shoveling them his mouth. "Pretty good snacks jou 'ave." He managed to say, chewed bits of debris flying out of his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" His soft voice asked from the other corner of the room. He rubbed his blue eyes and squinted in the hazy distance, he could just barely make out the familiar shape of Alfred from only a few meters away. God, he just couldn't settle for coming at a normal time did he? Nope, he just had to come insanely early in the morning.

"Just chillin'." Alfred shrugged. "Want some?" He held out the bag and stuffed a few more crisps into his mouth.

Matthew shook his head as he tried to make out what Alfred was holding in his other hand. "Is that a gun?" _He's finally done it…all that crap he eats must've drove him insane._

Alfred swallowed the chips and looked down in his left hand. "Oh, Henry?" He held up a black pistol and twirled it around his fingers a few times, showing it off like a Nobel Prize. He threw back his head laughed his annoying, invasive laugh. "A hero doesn't shoot the good guys, don't you worry." Alfred looked down at his fourth favorite gun. "Henry doesn't at least."

"You _named_ it?"

Alfred nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. Pretty cool, huh? Henry, Elise, Iggy, and Chad, they're my favorite pistols." He cleared his throat and tipped his head to the side, a grin spreading ear-to-ear. "I have at least six more like this at my place, not to mention all of my rifles, machine guns, shotguns, and a few antiques that I have. I could show you sometime if you wanted." He shoved the gun inside his pocket and winked a bright blue eye.

"Wait…why did you bring it?" Matthew asked. Not even America could be that dense to just bring it to _brag_ about it. He brushed his bedhead out of his eyes and stepped forward warily, not quite sure where he was going without his glasses.

Alfred cackled again and put his hand on Matthew's shoulders. Matthew flinched. "One of your moosen took down one of my helicopters." _Moose_, Canada corrected silently, _not moosen_. "I'm not quite sure how they grew wings but…it killed two people so I didn't want to take my chances."

"I-it's not moos-!" He stopped short with a shriek when he felt the barrel of a gun be pinned against his forehead, where his old maple leaf tattoo had been.

His vision was clear enough to see Alfred's crazed expression take control of his face, the same expression that he held when McRibs were available. "So I brought good ol' Henry just in case any of them wanted to mess with me." Both of their eyes widened. "I came a long way and didn't seen any moosen. Henry's depressed."

There was a long silence between the two. Alfred's freakishly eager smile practically sparkled in the fluorescent lights that brightly filled the kitchen. Matthew swallowed and his lips jerked up and down, not quite sure if Alfred was being serious or not. "Al?" Matthew tried to smile, but it only looked like a grimace.

What would Papa France do if this happened to him? Give in and run away? Laugh and playfully move the gun away from his face? Shove the gun out of his face and molest Alfred on the spot? Matthew didn't know what to do; he had never been confronted like this before about…anything!

Alfred made a high pitched squealing sound and bit his lower lip. "_BANG!_" He shouted, causing Canada to jump backwards, fall to his knees, and screech out words of apology and fear.

He heard a sound invade his eardrums that was so loud, so obnoxious, and so maniacal that he almost ran back into his room and slammed the door. "Ca-na-da!" Alfred barely managed to choke out between laughter "Dude!" Matthew looked up, his cheeks feeling like the sun. "You fell for it, man! You actually feel for it!" Alfred gripped his stomach, crushing the Rice Crisps in the process, and bent down to Matthew's level with a happy face.

"Hey that wasn't nice at all!" Canada scrabbled to stand up and snatched the snack bag out of America's hands. "How would you like it if I shoved a gun in your face?"

"Oh puh-lease." Alfred rubbed his eyes with a less aggressive grin. "I wouldn't believe you. You're just not threatening, Mattie."

Mattie gasped and took a step backward, offended. "I am…you're not…that's so…" Matt let out a frustrated grunt when he couldn't think of a better comeback. "I'm bigger than you!" Was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

Alfred burst out laughing again, worse than the last time, until he was red in the face as well. "Dude, you're just too…" He gestured obscenely and laughed again. "_You,_"

"There is nothing wrong with being Canadian!" Matthew stomped his foot and raised his voice to a new level of pitch.

"No, I know there isn't. You're really cool and all but… you kind of…" Alfred thought about what he was going to say for once. "_Too_ nice,"

"There is nothing wrong with being nice either!"

"You guys need something more exciting, like amusement parks or…wars or…_something_ to make you stand out."

"I had a tattoo of a maple leaf you know." He crossed his arms.

Alfred grinned sweetly, "And I saved you from a life of ridicule. I know, I know, no need to thank me." He walked towards his friend and held his arms open, expecting a hug.

"THAT WAS TO MAKE ME STAND OUT YOU IDIOT!" Matthew's voice rose louder than Alfred had ever heard it. He pounded Alfred weakly on the chest and panted after a few punches. Alfred forgave him for calling him an idiot quietly.

That didn't stop his smile from leaving though and a fresh frown to take place. "I apologize." He said dryly. "For the way you feel about that." His boss would be so proud. _Even if he was WRONG._

"Whatever." Matthew pushed him away and crossed his arms. "Why are you here again?"

"Oh yeah!" Alfred silently cursed himself for not thinking about it earlier. It was the whole reason he came here after all. "It's boring at my house. You mind if I crash here for a day or two?" He put his best puppy eyes on and clasped his hands together.

Matthew's eyebrows knitted together. "America you can't just-"

"Please, please, please, please, please!" Alfred fell down to his knees and grabbed Matt's hands. "You don't know what I'm going through right now! People think my president sucks, I owe a crap-ton of money, food costs a lot of money right now, there are _no_ good shows that aren't on reruns at my house, and it's so freaking boring at my house that I might actually die!" He met Matthew's blue eyes that softened slightly. "Everyone's all mad at me, but it's not my fault! I can't help that I'm the world's greatest country! It's all just too much!"

"Fine, but you can't eat everything in sight." Alfred's eyes lit up. "And you can only stay for a week okay?"

He felt a bone crushing hug encompass him and Alfred chanting words of thanks and greatness. Matthew highly doubted Alfred meant any of them, but it was nice to hear a few words of praise once in a while. "Dude, you'll like my savior! Next time you need something, anything, I'll give it to you! Everyone else will be all 'God that Canada is so super cool and awesome, I wish I was him since I can't be America.'"

Matthew smiled and chuckled quietly. "You should get some sleep. You look really tired." Canada led America out of the kitchen, who followed obediently. "How long did it take you to get here anyway?"

"Well," Alfred pushed his glasses up his nose. "I think I left on Tuesday, but then my car broke down and I didn't have enough money to get it fixed…" Alfred closed his eyes and inclined his head, "So I continued on foot," Alfred grin spread so far that it looked like to was going to snap like a rubber band. " Heroically."

Matthew stopped and looked Alfred up and down curiously. "On _foot_? As in you _walked_?" Alfred nodded and shrugged. "Wow you must've lost a lot of weight…" Then it hit him. He should be worried. "I mean, are you okay? Are you cold or anything? I can get you an extra blanket or something in case you're cold."

He started down the hallway to get a few blankets when Alfred piped in a "Nah, I'm good. It wasn't that bad."

Matthew turned around slowly to a grinning blond. "Really? You sure?" Alfred nodded. "Okay, well the guest bedroom is up the stairs on the right, okay?" He turned into his room and flipped off the lights.

Only when he tried to shut the door, a foot stopped him from shutting the door.

"I have a quick question." Alfred opened the door so wide that it bounced off the wall. _My wall!_ Matthew resisted the urge to make sure that the door hadn't impaled it. Alfred, oblivious to this, raised his eyebrows. "You have a T.V. upstairs, right?" Matthew shook his head. "Another question. Where is your T.V.?"

Matthew blinked, "In the living room."

"Another question: Where is that?"

"Down this hall to the left." Matthew attempted to shut the door again; Alfred blocked it and send it flailing into his poor wall again. "My. Wall." He said breathlessly, seeing the hole Alfred had made in his precious, precious home. He made a mental note to complain about it later when America was unarmed.

"I have a few more questions." Alfred paced inside the room and flipped the lights on. Quickly, Matthew turned them off. Alfred turned them on. Matthew turned them off. Al flipped the switch. Matt held down the off button. "I can't see the room if the lights are off." America growled.

"It's my room!"

"I'm your guest."

"So? It's my house."

"I'm older than you."

"God, you're such an idiot! I'm older than _you_."

"I feel dirty if the lights are off."

"Then don't think about dirty thoughts!"

"Whoops. Can't. They're already there. They're about you."

"That's disgusting. I'm your brother."

"_Exactly_." Alfred shook his head and pulled his blonde hair by the roots, read. "Agh, I'm gonna, I'm gonna…" He screamed and covered his eyes. "Just turn on the lights! Please! I'm dying over here! This is so nasty! I feel like France!"

Canada dragged Alfred out of his room and into the light, Al calmed down a little bit. "Better?" Matthew had never imagined that Alfred would be the type to be afraid of the dark. "You wanted to ask me something?"

Alfred thought for a moment, eyes still covered. "I forgot. I don't want to remember that far back." Matthew must've let a sigh slip or America wouldn't have muttered something about countries before shouting something obscene. "Well if I did I'd have to think about what I just thought about and you do _not_ want to know what was going through my head. I don't care how much time France spent with you, I'm not saying anything. Do you understand?" He spat out in incredible speed and latched onto his brother's small shoulders.

"Just…go to bed, Alfred." He attempted to turn around and get at least two more hours of sleep when Alfred didn't lift his hands. "Hm?"

Alfred stood there for a second, eyes searching for something in Matt's. "What?" He asked, trying to shrug off Alfred's grasp.

Alfred didn't answer, and all signs of happiness slowly vanished. "Oh nothing," He hummed, patting his brother on the shoulders and forcing a smile. "I just was thinking."

_Thinking? That's new_, Matthew bit his bottom lip to hold back the words. Something the American that stood in front of him would never do. "About what?"

Alfred's face lit up suddenly, like someone had given him a compliment instead of a complaint for once. "Aboot? I wasn't thinking _aboot_ anything. Last time I checked you can't think _aboot_ something. _Aboot._" He tipped his head to side and smirked, Matthew frowned. He didn't sound like that. "I was thinking _about_ what I'm going to do tomorrow, you don't have any plans do you?"

"Oh, nope, just a meeting later in the afternoon." He lied. "I'll probably be out the whole afternoon actually." Alfred frowned and his blue eyes dulled slightly, like a puppy that had its treat taken away.

"It's going to be fun, if you want to come. We're going to talk about the future generations of Canada, discuss road conditions, phone conference with France possibly, and talk about education." He hung on the last word for his own pleasure, Alfred's face twitched slightly. If he were in a bad mood, Alfred would call Matthew a bloodthirsty dream-crusher for saying those three syllables.

"Oh, that sounds fun." Alfred said quietly and carefully, like he was talking about his nation's STD rate. "I think I'll pass though." He forced a smile.

Matthew actually had other plans that had nothing to do with dry meetings discussing foreign affairs. Although it would be fun to go to all meetings that Alfred went to, he could see the dread in America's face when he said he had a conference to attend to. Matt found the meetings equally as boring as Al did but, he wasn't much of a complainer. "Well, I'm going to bed." Alfred stretched and patted his brother on the back once before trudging up the stairs.

Those plans, however, involved something that he knew America would despise. Matthew didn't quite understand why Alfred always got so worked up when he mentioned Russia, but Al would either stay completely silent, casting a long glare that drilled holes into Matthew, or give a long lecture of reasons not to mess with the foreign nation.

They were just going to play hockey.

It wasn't that big of a deal or anything.

Russia fixed his scarf, a smile trapped on his face with lock and key. His grip loosened on his carry-on bags as he slowly walked in the private plane. It had been a long time since he last saw Canada. He would be happy to see him, of course.

Ivan liked many things about the Canadian already: the fact that he was the second largest nation (besides Russia), the fact that he once made America tear up (like Russia), and the fact that he had a sweet, pretty face (like Russia).

Playing hockey between the two was different though. A different side of Matthew would come out just as soon as he stepped onto the ice.

Ivan enjoyed watching the snowflakes catch in Matthew's hair and slightly freckled face and the way the cold bitterness of them didn't affect him any longer. Canada, ungainly and clumsy on foot, but on the ice could managed to skate faster than any other nation (besides Russia, obviously) and had a certain confidence and presence that he held on the ice.

And the dopey, slightly aggravated expression that held a purchase on Matthew's face during the sport. And, when Ivan was winning, he'd slowly start to lose that confidence and presence. And the way how he somehow managed to not break his glasses even when a puck hit him square in the face. And finally, when he was thrown against a wall of the hockey arena, sometimes spitting up a little bit of blood and other times managing to injure himself, the surprised glow that just radiated 'helpless and afraid' for a few meager seconds.

Ivan would imagine sometimes what Matthew's expression would be if he were conquered. The first time Ivan caught a glimpse at that expression he had stopped skating completely just to stare at him. Matthew's nose was bleeding and possibly broken by the way he was holding his face, and he looked up at the much taller Russia from where he was slumped over.

Ivan blocked out all other noise in the arena for what felt like five minutes. Not doing anything, just watching. Countless emotions played out on his hurt face. Shock, disbelief, hurt, sadness, anger, determination, and fear all in one glorious match

Russia could only fight back smiling and outreached his hand to help the Canadian up. To the crowd it looked like a friendly, good sportsmanship gesture. In all honesty though, Ivan just wanted a closer look at the afraid blond.

Then and there his resolve was set. He just wanted to take a picture of it and hang it above his fireplace.

No, he wanted to see that face live every day. That would be better than any old picture frame. Even better than that, he wanted to bring the second biggest nation to its _knees _and watch him cry and beg for mercy.

Oh well. He supposed it couldn't be helped.

Sooner or later Ivan would need to expand.

* * *

><p>End of Chapter 1<p>

I don't own anything


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